Enough
by Fiona Fargazer
Summary: Just a small ficlet which is mostly a conversation between Bilbo and Bofur. After the Ravens tell that Dain is on his way, Bilbo realizes that a war between everyone concerned is imminent. Thorin won't listen to reason (and is busy still worrying about his Arkenstone) and the Dwarves are determined to stay loyal to their king.


JMJ

ENOUGH

Fiona Fargazer

NOTE: _This ficlet, as all my Hobbit fics, is kind of a mixture between the movies and the books and takes place in chapter 16 of the Hobbit._

* * *

"We are running low on food," the Dwarves tried to tell Thorin.

With the whole mountain besieged and the campfires of Elves and Men far below bringing with it the sense of warmth and the imagined smells of food far better and more interesting than cram, the company began to feel restless in their cold halls with little supplies save what the treasure horde offered. Though it did offer many other things including music, armor, and even light, not to mention that just to look at gold long enough warmed a Dwarvish heart like wine for some time, but it brought no sort of true nourishment.

Bilbo had noticed the shortage of food days before the others, for the gold really did nothing for him. Not even their songs cheered him, and he had not talked much since Thorin had first sent Bard away in his impossible stubborn manner. Bilbo should have known enough of Dwarves not to have been surprised by Thorin's response, but he had originally said he would give wealth to the people of Lake Town. He was sure Thorin had meant it then, but something changed in him ever since they first entered mountain and with the death of the dragon instead of getting better he seemed to be growing worse.

Now it was to Bilbo's relief the Dwarves were not so stubborn to allow themselves to starve in this dark tower as Bilbo had come to know it as, but Bilbo did not get his hopes up entirely as he looked up to Thorin to await his response. With a skeptical brow, Bilbo watched from behind all the others and cleared his throat.

"Maybe we should just give them a tiny bit," said Kili, holding out a pinching set of fingers and squinted between them.

Fili agreed.

"Or at least the Men," said Bombur before Fili could finish.

"Aye!" agreed his brother Bofur with a hasty nod and a bounce of the sides of his hat. "The Elves can just stay out of it. With the Men satisfied the Elves can just go home disappointed."

Ori nodded. "Or maybe just give a tiny bit to both of them."

Dori gave him an odd disapproving sort of look, which Ori did not seem to notice.

"They can't say we're being impossible enough to be besieged then," said Bofur.

"Or at least, perhaps, give us some time enough to get more supplies, sir," suggested Bifur quietly.

"Fill the larders and such!" said Bofur.

"Exactly!" said Kili.

Sure, their motivation was mostly their own comfort, but Bilbo felt satisfied all the more with the Dwarves at these new suggestions.

It was the younger half of the company that voiced the loudest complaints. And Thorin with arms crossed looked upon them with withheld annoyance with the sort of patience one has for foolish children that do not understand what is wisdom. But for the moment he did not respond. Balin responded for him. For the older Dwarves at once stopped their own complaints once they saw what the younger ones designed to solved the problem.

"They don't want just a little bit," said Balin in full seriousness. "They want their 'share', and even if we do give the Men what they want, they won't be satisfied with their friends' not getting what they will feel is due as well."

"Give 'em an inch and they'll take a mile," muttered Gloin.

"They'll be more pushy than before," Oin grumbled.

"They're pushy enough already!" Dori declared.

"But what about the victuals?" Bombur demanded feeling much bolder not having to speak directly to the king under the mountain himself. "Winter's coming fast! Stomachs are pushier than any army especially once the chill of a northern winter sets in."

"And what do you know of a northern winter?" Dori wanted to know. "It's not like you've ever been here before."

"Dori," muttered Nori. "You were five years old. You don't remember winters at Erebor."

Spinning around, Dori gave Nori a look. "I mean there are no true northern winters at all at Erebor!" he snapped.

"They got cold, believe me, laddie," said Oin.

"The inside of the mountain will remain warm enough," said Balin calmly, trying to evade a full blown argument.

"Besides," said Thorin, finally speaking for the first time.

Bilbo's attention, which had not strayed far from Thorin during the whole procedure, perked with interest. The others all looked at him now as well with all the respect they knew due to him as king.

"Word has just been received from the Ravens, as Balin and Bilbo full know" (they were with Thorin at the time) "that Dain and his army from the Iron Hills are nearing the mountain as we speak. Five hundred at least join him and possibly far more."

This got the company's attention all the more, but Bilbo's shoulders slumped.

"There will be no hiding when they arrive," said Thorin, his voice growing with a passion. "And even if they weren't coming, are we cowards and weaklings that we let our stomachs rule us? At the sign of the least bit of discomfort we give in? Is this Durin's Folk? Whining like Dwarflings over not having your choice for supper? We have enough cram to last a long while yet and the wells of Erebor will supply us with enough to drink. Ale and roasts are for the victory. Some of you have gone on too far in life spoiled and not knowing what life is really like. It is hard and always will be hard. What the songs tell are not lies.

"But we're Dwarves. Trials don't stop us. They make us stronger. You'll find your strength. All of you! If food becomes to scarce, don't think we won't fight to get our food! Were we destroyed when the cursed dragon Smaug descended upon us without warning in the night? Were we destroyed when we had to lead our most vulnerable and little ones hardly more than infants unsheltered over miles and miles of wasteland before we reached Dunland where gold was legend and work was hard? Where descendants of kings worked for Men that thought us nothing more than a nuisance and thought themselves charitable for allowing us to work in their coal mines where Men's lungs burn but Dwarves are left unharmed? We made our way to the Blue Mountains. We worked to better it in all we could, and before? Were we destroyed when outnumbered by hordes of orcs at Moria's doorstep? Were we destroyed when the embodiment of death itself raged a molten storm about us ages past at the fall of Khazad-dûm? It took with it Durin the Sixth and took with it Nain after his last valiant effort, but we the people of Durin survived! Their deaths were not in vain. And have you forgotten what we have all just been through? Goblins, trolls, the darkest wood, the dankest dungeon. Did it stop us?!"

"We can handle winter in these lands far better than Men or Elves huddled in their camps. They'll be weakened considerably by the first heavy snowfall, but we will not, and we will not give so much as a chip of rusted metal to the likes of those who dare think to bully us into submission once at last we have got back our own! Without us the Men of these lands would have been in poverty long before the coming of the dragon! This is Erebor! This is ours! Built by the sweat and toil of _our_ people! Mined by _our_ people! Crafted and gilded by the work of _our_ hands! Each and every gold coin melted down by the smiths of Erebor! We will fight for it to the death without any fear!"

To be expected, such a pretty speech aroused every bit of fire inside the hearts of his company, except for Bilbo who grew grimmer with each passing phrase. The Dwarves cheered their leader and cheered for Erebor, the line of Durin, the gold, and for Dain's coming, and Thorin looked on with deep satisfaction and pride.

They began to sing, though not with as much organization as they had when they first brought out the instruments from the horde. It was strong though once it got going, strong and impenetrable like a great shield thrust in front of them guarding them from all care, from all fear — from their own sense as far as Bilbo was concerned.

As dark and miserable as Bilbo looked lost in his corner away from the merry-making of the foolish company, he at last could stand no more. Stepping out towards Thorin he looked at him beseechingly. Everyone else continued singing and did not notice him.

"Thorin," he said. "Do you really mean to go to war?"

"If they insist!" remarked Thorin.

"But this could all be solved so simply, and at the sight of Dain and his army surely the others will take it that _you_ insist."

"We're not afraid to fight!" Thorin declared.

"Yes, yes, but — I know but — If you just—"

"Besides if they surrender and go back where they came from we will let them go in peace."

"_Thorin_!"

Holding up his hand for Bilbo to cease, Thorin simply marched past him and made for the treasure horde. Bilbo thought to go after him, but he knew that Thorin would have no patience for him while hunting for his prized Arkenstone, which still he had been unable to find. It unnerved Bilbo to be in the treasure hold alone with Thorin anyway. He knew full well that Thorin would never find it in there, for it lay with Bilbo's things in what he used for a bed. The fear of what Thorin would do if he found out Bilbo withheld it caused Bilbo to shiver.

He closed his eyes in defeat, but not for long. He jumped at the placing of a hand on his shoulder. He turned around.

"I understand," said Balin. "Hobbits have no love of war. We don't expect you to agree with us. But some things must be done for honor's sake."

"_You_ know, don't you?" said Bilbo. "You have to see that there's no reason to have a war. Smaug is dead and the goblins are far behind. These are other civilized _people_. We can come to some sort of an agreement without getting physical about it, can't we?"

"Thorin has set his mind," said Balin. "And we will respect that, as should you."

"But!" Bilbo protested. "Please, Balin. He listens to you. Ask him to reconsider. You must see this is madness."

Balin sighed.

The others had stopped their merriment by now and most seemed thoroughly annoyed with Bilbo dampening the mood.

"Whatever is the matter with the burglar now?" they wanted to know. "There's always something the matter with him." "Ignore him." "Aye."

"Oh!" growled Bilbo and swung around toward them.

He thought of yelling at them and reminding them all how much he had helped the ungrateful Dwarves since the adventure began but decided against it. Instead he tried a third time to reason with them upon turning to Bofur who though certainly not brave enough to confront Thorin nor wise enough to see through errors in his leader's decisions, possessed some side of him that was not quite as Dwarvish as the others, Bilbo thought. At least, when it came to a certain amount of near hidden empathy for those outside his own circle. Perhaps at least he might be implored.

"Bofur."

Bofur looked up in alarm.

"Bilbo," he said.

"No one has to die," said Bilbo. "Right?"

"Thorin's word is law," said Bofur quite simply; though he did look quite uncomfortable fidgeting with his fingers out in front of him and peeking out with heavy brows from beneath his hat. "We will all fight for him to the death." Here he strengthened somewhat; the very word "fight" seemed to do something to Dwarves. "That is what we do. Besides no one says for certain there will be a war."

"The Men of Lake Town have lost so much when the dragon flew down," Bilbo tried.

Again Bofur looked uncomfortable, the ears of his hat drooping somewhat.

"And so have we," said Dwalin then. "By the same beast."

Bofur and Bilbo both turned to him; Bofur's uneasiness had not yet settled and he continued to look rather pitiful or soulful might have been the better word.

Bilbo turned around again. "Fili? Kili?"

"We agree with whatever Thorin decides!" Fili said.

Kili frowned as if less sure that his brother but said nonetheless, "Erebor belongs to us."

"But they don't want Erebor! They just want a share. Some of it is _theirs_, isn't it?"

"That's debatable," Dori said.

"Nori?" tried Bilbo. Nori had not given an opinion as of yet.

But Nori did not grace Bilbo with an answer at all.

"Bombur?"

"Just let us do our business," said Oin before Bombur had a chance to speak. "We don't mess with the business of Hobbits."

"He's right," admitted Bombur.

Bilbo cleared his throat. "I see. Your honor is quite important. I know that."

"You're just concerned, and we appreciate that however much it's unneeded," said Bombur.

Bofur heartily agreed. "Aye, you are a good natured soul, Bilbo. Never a kinder one."

"Mmm. Yes. Thank you," said Bilbo though a tad dry in tone as he nodded to Bofur. Then clearing his throat he began again. "And I'm sorry. This is your business, not mine, as you say. I hear tell that Dwarves are the very symbols of war and battle." He did not mention also that they were considered by some to be symbols of death, which Bilbo was not sure he had understood in the entire until this very evening.

"And gold," someone added in a warning grumble and not at all impressed with Bilbo; none of the Dwarves really were.

"Yes, thank you again, and gold," said Bilbo shuffling his feet. "And I'm just a Hobbit and not at all knowledgeable about such things not even _gold_. I'm … sorry to have interfered in your affairs."

Bilbo had already begun departing before his last word, and he left the company in the opposite direction that Thorin went to get as far away from every Dwarf as he very well could.

"He's just upset," said Bofur. "Poor Hobbit. He is a decent fellow, Bilbo."

"He was being sarcastic at us," muttered Gloin.

"Leave him alone," said Bombur with a shrug; his opinions on Bilbo were much on the same lines as Balin's and Bofur's.

As he came out of earshot of the Dwarves, Bilbo slowed down a little and looked behind him at the glow of light coming from the tunnel where their undecipherable echoing speech continued. Well did Bilbo understand the words of Gandalf, "I've had enough of Dwarves for one day."

#

A plan had been forming in Bilbo's mind, especially after the word with the Raven.

Dain was coming. And who was Dain? Bilbo did not venture to wonder. He would simply be another hard-headed Dwarf with a whole army to back him up and would certainly be on Thorin's side. Thirteen were bad enough to contend with in situations where one dares disagree with them, but a whole five hundred grim Dwarves would be an overwhelming swarm. It would be like the unexpected party at Bilbo's house at the beginning of these so-called adventures only quadrupled and in their house instead with Bilbo as the tiny and rather unwanted guest, and all of them in a warlike temper.

No. He wouldn't like to wait around for that.

But what he hated more was the thought of his friends killing themselves for absolute nonsense! Dwarves were painful friends to have. They may be loyal; they may be strong; they may have a blunt honesty about them; they may even be good company in better times, but they were always getting themselves into constant trouble and would not take anyone's advice once their stubborn heads had been locked in one direction, especially the line of Durin and especially Thorin Oakenshield.

Leaning back against what had served as his pillow since the dragon's departure and eventual demise, Bilbo waited. Worn cloth, his coat, and some empty sacks had been all rolled together to form it, and of course the prize of Erebor upon which his head had been resting for many a night, but this would be the last.

Someone had to stop this madness. The Men would not give in. The Elves would not give in. The Dwarves, well, what could be said of them that had not been said already? Bilbo wished Gandalf could be with them now, and he wondered as he often had since first entering Mirkwood without the wizard what had become of him and his sense and his motivation and his way with people and way with making things turn out alright. Why had he left? Well, even now Bilbo knew that Gandalf would not have left unless it truly had been important, but he also knew with him gone and everyone else ready to rip each other to shreds it seemed that only Bilbo could do something if he could get away with it. If Thorin did not catch him first, if his courage did not fail him, if the Men and Elves even wanted to listen to him as a friend of the Dwarves?

_Well, _he told himself. _Facts do speak for themselves. All I'd have to do is wave the stone about and I will have their attention. And Bard does seem to be about the only other person reasonable at this point. I can disappear and reappear before him alone._

That was what Bilbo intended to do, but he had to wait until the lights grew dim, until many of the others had gone to bed, and no one could wonder where he had gotten himself to.

He wrapped his arms behind his head and stared up at the vast black ceiling barely visible in the gloom where the light from where the others still murmured amongst themselves managed to penetrate. Their voices echoed like ghosts in the ancient halls, and the sounds of dripping and faint blowing sounded somewhere like a hallow dream.

After a time he sat up, and rested his arms upon his knees in order to keep him fresh and at the ready. He did not want to find himself asleep; though, he felt that would be rather unlikely in his frame of mind. Even still he did not feel like lying upon his pillow anymore. He fidgeted his fingers a bit and then glanced at the just barely perceptible lump in his pillow that he knew represented the placement of the Arkenstone. There were many lumps in his makeshift pillow.

No one thought anything. No one else slept here but Bilbo anyway, and few cared to venture into his "bedroom". Besides, none would have thought Bilbo capable of hiding the Arkenstone even if he had been labeled the "burglar".

They trusted him. They believed him loyal to them just as they were loyal to him, whenever Bilbo thought about it too hard as much as they cared for his welfare, they still often took his help for granted, and in fact were hardly grateful. But he was not doing this because of any reason of that sort. He was far too decent for that, but he could not help but think it at times. What thought of them that pushed him toward this further was that true loyalty and true friendship meant saving a friend no matter what. Even from himself. Though the Dwarves may not appreciate that sort of loyalty, Bilbo knew he would feel far more guilty if he did nothing to try to stop this.

"Bilbo?"

Despite himself Bilbo could not help but jump in surprise, and he turned to see Bofur under the grand archway, poking his head around a pier. Bofur smiled a little at Bilbo's leap into the air, but went rather sober again fast as Bilbo waited expectantly and a little annoyed in Bofur's direction.

Since no one had bothered to invite Bofur in further, Bofur took it upon himself to enter into the darkened chamber.

"I just wanted to say that no one thinks less of you, you know."

At first Bilbo thought to say nothing in return to the comment, but after a short pause he gave a weary nod and said, "Yes, I know you don't." And before he could stop himself he asked, "Is it really the Elves that this is all about?"

Bofur was taken aback.

"You didn't just come in here to say something that you've already said," said Bilbo.

"Well …"

"Do you really hate Elves that much?"

"They did lock us away in their dungeons for weeks," Bofur reminded him.

Bilbo sighed, irritation subsiding as Bofur took a seat on a cleft in the wall nearby. Climbing up to his feet, Bilbo looked at Bofur quite sternly.

"I mean before that, Bofur," said Bilbo. "Why do you hate them?"

"Oh, I don't hate them personally," said Bofur with a careless shake of his head. "I find them a little pushy is all, and a little silly. But— Well, Thorin has reason enough to distrust the woodland elves here."

"Other than the part with the dungeon?" asked Bilbo.

"The Elvenking may not have been able to stop Smaug the Terrible, but he certainly could have given provisions to starving little ones and provide for temporary shelter, after all."

Bilbo sighed, "Yes, I suppose he could have."

Bilbo had to admit that did not make much sense to him when thinking about any other elves he knew about. Woodland elves were far different than those of Rivendell, he decided. They were somehow a little more like Dwarves in their stubbornness and desires for wealth, though Bilbo even in front of Bofur would not have suggested such a thing out loud.

"Would Erebor have?"

"Hmm?"

"If it had been the other way around? And the Elves were in trouble. Would Erebor have helped them?"

Bofur thought about this question a moment, but Bilbo did not give him the chance to answer. Plopping down into a similar cleft on the other side of Bofur, he said, "Why ever do you despise each other so much? I thought at one time you were friends."

"Erebor and the Men of Dale and the Elves of Mirkwood were unusual," Bofur said with a sage sort of nod, "and for a long time, but I suppose one of the main reasons though why Dwarves don't like Elves in a general is for the reason of the Blue Mountains."

"The Blue Mountains?" said Bilbo. "I was never under the impression that there were Elves living in that direction for years and years."

"Nor Dwarves either before some of the Broadbeams took up residence again and the line of Durin came with King Thrain," said Bofur, "not for years and years, long before the reign of King Thror under the mountain did Dwarves live in the Blue Mountains. My clan's origins were there a long time ago before we joined Khazad-dûm and there were also Firebeards with us. Both our fathers woke there at the beginning of any time that matters."

"What happened to them?" asked Bilbo.

"They were wiped out," said Bofur. "Or moved on."

"Not by the Elves, Bofur," said Bilbo.

"No, no," said Bofur. "But the city of Tumunzahar had been severely weakened by them, and it is said by some that it is because of this weakening that Tumunzahar had been so easily wiped out later in battles with eviler things, and no one knows if any of the inhabitants of that city live to this day."

"I don't think I can believe that," said Bilbo.

"It is true," said Bofur.

Bilbo hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Aye, as sure as I am that you're sitting in front of me," Bofur replied.

"But there must have been a reason," said Bilbo.

"Of course there was a reason," Bofur told him with shrug. "There's always a reason. Even trolls have a reason for what they do whether it makes sense or not."

"Well! What was the reason?"

"A disagreement," said Bofur.

"Over what?" pressed Bilbo. "Over treasure? Like now?"

"In short terms," said Bofur looking quite grim as he spoke. "They asked for quality service, and they got it, the best that Dwarves can give, but the Elves, well, they didn't feel they had to pay for high quality is all. And the king of that particular gathering of Elves refused to be reasoned with and wouldn't pay them the proper amount. They threatened the Dwarves and tried to force them to leave. No one cheats a Dwarf."

A shudder went through Bilbo as the Arkenstone passed through his mind for a blip, but he turned to Bofur in earnest. "Did they kill him then?"

"It was an insult what the Elves did, and on top of that they bore their arms against the Dwarves first, and that made it all the worse of an insult."

"Is that what your tales tell?" asked Bilbo.

"It's written down in their records that remained in the mountains and were found by the Broadbeams when a group of us returned many a century later," said Bofur.

"And so I suppose that once the king had been killed, the Elves and Dwarves went straight to war."

"Of course," said Bofur. "The Elves would not stand by after an event like that. They killed every Dwarven smith they had working for them, except two that managed to escape and tell what had happened. Upon that moment the Dwarves would avenge their dead as well as their pride. They attacked the Elvish city and got back what was theirs, and the Elves with the aid of some of their friends managed to kill every last one of them that fought in that battle even those who tried to flee north."

"I'm assuming you're a descendant of the other city then."

"Mostly Firebeards lived in Tumunzahar," said Bofur. "The Broadbeams lived mostly in Gabilgathol. They did not think it smart to—"

Running his fingers through his hair, Bilbo shook his head and sighed. "Don't you ever get tired of it, Bofur?"

"Get tired of what?" Bofur asked.

"Of your race getting killed and getting thrown out of your homes all the time?" cried Bilbo in passionate earnest.

For a moment Bofur stared.

"I'm sorry," said Bilbo turning away from the wretched expression. "I'm sorry, I—"

"That's why Thorin is so insistent upon fighting to keep what is his," said Bofur. "There's no telling what a Dwarf will do for his own."

"But this has nothing to do with Erebor," said Bilbo. "It's just about treasure, and treasure that I don't even think is his, don't you see that? It has nothing to do with home or the line of Durin or—or any of those things that you spoke of so fondly along this whole journey or even about what Thorin, may his beard grow ever longer, gave in his speech out there."

"The gold," Bofur offered.

"Yes, yes, yes, the gold, I know," said Bilbo. "It's in your song, I know all about your gold, but you have _your_ gold. Now what about the treasures that were not _your_ gold? Can't you see that this is the same war as the one that wiped out the Tumu—Tumu—"

"Nogrod?"

"Nogrod? Uh—that you were just talking about? Can't you see that you're treating the Men of Lake Town no better than the way the Elvenking treated those who had escaped this Lonely Mountain?" Bilbo shook his head. "That dragon's not dead, is it? Smaug's still alive. The dread he brought is still upon us all, and we will all be destroyed just as if he still circled about us trying to burn us all alive. How can I sit and listen to my friends, you and the rest, plan to kill these people who had legitimate complaints that could be compromised with?"

Having expressed this sentiment, Bilbo felt utterly exhausted and fell back into the cleft and closed his eyes to the ceiling. He felt he may have said too much in reference to what he planned to do next anyway. Not that Bofur out of any of them would have thought that Bilbo would act upon these words in anyway resembling taking the Arkenstone to their enemies in the middle of the night so that Thorin could be more easily bargained with and slipping back to the mountain before anyone knew Bilbo was gone.

"I'm sorry," Bilbo said again. "It doesn't matter what I say. I know … I know that you're still going to fight in that war — if it does indeed come upon us. For honor, for obedience to your king, and Thorin would never change his mind. I don't even know if he _could_ change his mind, he's so hurt and angry and bitter from years of past injuries, never forgiving, never forgetting."

Slowly Bofur shook his head. "I do understand where you're coming from," he said with delicate care.

"But you're not going to change your mind," said Bilbo very calmly now, or at least in a quiet defeat. "There's a big difference in that, I think."

"I can't _not_ obey Thorin Oakenshield," said Bofur. "I don't know if you know this but my kin and I are officially labeled servants of the king on this adventure as we're not officially of any line of Durin."

"There's no reason to talk about this anymore, Bofur. We haven't gotten anywhere more than where we left off with the others. And … you're all right. I don't understand. I hope I never do."

Standing up again Bilbo made as if he meant to go to sleep. He sat back down upon his bedding and glanced at Bofur once more who had not moved as of yet from his spot but looked quite thoughtful. His eyes rose out toward where the entrance would be just beyond the wall.

"What would you do then Bilbo?" asked Bofur.

It was not a joke. He meant it in his tone.

"What?" asked Bilbo.

"If you had a say in the matter," said Bofur, "which I think in a way you should …"

Bilbo smiled grimly.

"What would you say should be done?" Bofur asked.

"Well …" Bilbo hesitated. "I … Give the Elves and the Men what treasure is theirs I suppose."

"They may ask for more than their share," said Bofur.

"Uh, even if their share did go a little over," said Bilbo. "I should at least be happy to give the Men enough to rebuild their town and Dale too aside from what is rightfully theirs. There would still be more than enough treasure for the Dwarves. I can't imagine it would make much of a dent in it either way. There's more gold in that hold to last a splurger a dozen lifetimes. A hundred even. There's enough for everyone."

Bofur grinned even if a tad sadly. "I always liked the Hobbits when we were in Bree."

Bilbo raised a brow. "Well, I'm not that familiar with Bree Hobbits, I'm afraid, except for their better tolerance for adventurous folk." He laughed. "Like you and me. I'll probably get to know them better when I get … home …"

"All I meant was … Ah, goodnight."

"Goodnight," said Bilbo as Bofur left the chamber.

He watched Bofur pause a moment in the archway as he glanced toward the entrance and then back once more to Bilbo through the entryway.

"Don't worry. You _will_ get home," he said in a chirpy sort of voice that was far more himself than the low tones both had been using earlier. "I know it, and you'll have your books and your armchair and you cozy little fire. You will."

"Thank you," said Bilbo looking away, but Bofur did not notice the Hobbit's weary face for he had already disappeared back the way from which he had come.

Laying back against his pillow, he waited a while to make certain the Bofur would not come back, but he figured he was gone for good now.

He knew as well that there was nothing more to discuss, and Bilbo knew he would not return to say that Thorin had changed his mind and would parley with Bard in a more peaceful manner. No one would come, Bilbo knew, except for Bombur who took first watch that night, and he listened to his reluctant footsteps as he made for his post above, and there would be no one after him until Fili took up the watch after him and Kili after that.

"Alright," Bilbo told himself feeling determined though quite nervous. "Now … or never."

Throwing back the first layers of his pillow, he unwrapped the Arkenstone gleaming as it always did, but Bilbo did not look at it for long. He wrapped it back in a cloth in a rather tight knot as if the Arkenstone may have the ability of escaping him. Then reaching for a rope, which he had also been keeping under his pillow since earlier that day, he slipped out of the chamber and out to where Bombur kept watch.

#

The treasure glistened in torchlight like fairy dust of a forgotten dream, and it twinkled like stars on a full clear night much unlike the moonless cold sky that was outside that night.

What little work had been done in attempting to organize this treasure was a child's sandcastle upon a vast golden beach with pebbles of blue and white, violet and green glistening tauntingly between. The black empty sea was the ceiling above. Any décor or architectural flare had long since been cleaned out long ago by the mere flick of a dragon's tail.

Thorin stood in the midst of this scene, hands wrapped around his back and a grim jaw held his face, a daggered look in his eyes as he scanned the horde.

But though a fortune could not have been grander there was no Arkenstone. It was buried somewhere beneath that glittering mound. There was nowhere else it could be. Every corner had been searched, every nook and cranny, box and bowl and chest, scoured again and again and nothing. The only other possibility that passed through Thorin's mind of what may have happened to it was that Smaug had taken it somewhere outside of the mountain or even swallowed it to keep it safe from theft. If that were the case it would now be lying at the bottom of the lake far, far below to the depths where no one would ever be able to get at it again and weeds and sand and mud would swallow it even more once the dragon's body had been eaten away by fish and time.

"Excuse me."

There was a clearing of a throat and the sound of chinking gold pieces at the tromping of a pair of boots.

Released from what had been a near trance, Thorin turned around with a slow but forceful movement to see who he knew would be Bofur, which was not among the sights he was in the mood for at the moment.

"What?" he demanded.

"Thorin," said Bofur with a bow, and he even called him with the utmost respect by his proper name and title in Khuzdul, which did not leave a great impression on Thorin it must be admitted even if he did soften a little towards him.

"What is it, Bofur?"

"I've been thinking," said Bofur rather slowly and timidly as he placed one gentle hand into the other. He paused for a breath. "This is one of the biggest of all treasure hordes in all the world, isn't it?"

Thorin grunted.

"Aye! Well, we could make a sort of surprise in that way when you revenge your enemies by tricking 'em and give 'em what they—"

"Enough, Bofur."

Bofur bowed his head.

"You don't know anything about these matters any more than the burglar does," muttered Thorin.

"Right," said Bofur, and in defeat he slunk away feeling quite unhappy about the whole thing.

"I'm not a coward," growled Thorin. "I won't give in."

Bofur thought this directed at him and bounded down the corridor and wondering how he ever could have dared to confront Thorin like that, but Thorin had already dismissed Bofur from his mind. His growl had been for himself and the walls and to Bard and Thranduil whom he now despised more than ever.

That fact that he still did not have his Arkenstone made him all the angrier still.

#

In the darkness outside Bilbo hurried along the black path. The ring rested upon his finger, and he came towards the camps as quickly and quietly as he could with a mind to keep his promise to Bombur and return to him at midnight after he had finished his intended task. He hoped that it would be enough to end a war before it started.


End file.
